knowthyexits | (no subject)

It's difficult to avoid the clinic when she has a doctor at her disposal and she needs to verify that her treatment hasn't gone on a collision course to nowhere. She's made her appointment and is now hovering around the clinic as she waits for Rory to get in, her head bent low. She's treated her wrist by herself, patched up the wounds as best as she can, but it's not her physical being that she's concerned about.

An entire restaurant's worth of people heard her being called Sarah Connor.

There's not much wiggle room when it comes to escaping that accusation. She might as well abandon her alias, at this point, because her worst fears have come to pass and there's nowhere that she can run. She could go to the second island, but she needs to treat the cancer and it's difficult to do that, there. It's terrifying, but there's a chance that Sarah may need to suck it up, face her fears, and simply live as the woman she actually is.

She adjusts her hold on her forearm, deciding to leave that particularly delightful existential crisis for later, when she's not waiting for the ramifications of the attack to come falling down around her ears.

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Sarah gives him a look that says this is unprecedented. She doesn't even know what to do with this information except gape at him for a moment longer than usual. "I put people in danger," she says, as if needing to remind him of what she's done. "I ruined your restaurant."

And she does believe that she has done this. After all, the machine had come for Sarah Connor.

"Whatever the fuck that was after you, they're the ones that put people in danger," I say, confused why I even need to remind her of that. I wasn't there to see it, but from everything I've heard... from everything I know about her... I just can't believe that she let any of this happen knowingly.

"Look, Sarah, I'm not gonna start turnin' out my friends 'cause something from home comes after 'em. I don't... I don't really understand why you think I would."

She takes a moment, here, to pause. "Because no one's ever done that for me," she says simply, devoid of much emotion in her voice even though it means the world to her. She's sick, possibly dying, and now she's been revealed to everyone as to what she truly is -- a danger.

Neil's saying she can still have a place? She's not sure where to even begin with that. "That might not be the last thing that comes for me."

"What the hell was it?"

Because it wasn't a man, I know that much. It might've looked like one, but from everything I've heard, it was anything but.

Her shoulders are rife with tension, drawn together as she takes in deep breaths to try and persuade her mind to give up the truth. "We call them T-triple-eights," she says, picking a fixed point on the wall and staring at it as she speaks. "They're programmed to do one thing and that one thing is kill."

"Why the fuck is somethin' like that after you?" I ask, 'cause... Well, she's not just a waitress, that much is obvious, but I can't think of a single fuckin' thing about her that'd draw an enemy like that.

"Because of who I am," she says, like it's one of those existential things she's become aware of. "I'm Sarah Connor," she introduces herself properly, extending her hand out as if that will make up for all the months of lying. She knows it's not that simple -- it never is.